


(Don't) Go Quiet

by SerenStone



Series: Destiny 2 Prompts [10]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: BDSM Topics Mentioned, Dead Body, Do Not Do As the Warlock Do, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Improper Application of the Scientific Method, Multi, Original Ghosts, Original Guardians - Freeform, Self Harm, Tumblr Prompt, We Stan Ghosts in this House, We Stan Titans in this House, We Stan Warlocks in this House
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 21:28:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 17,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21995536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenStone/pseuds/SerenStone
Summary: Prompt: Destcember's Day 7: Forge Your Destiny & Marian Hill's Song "Go Quietly"Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ez3GqwNhFH8
Relationships: Ghost & Guardian (Destiny), Guardian/Ghost
Series: Destiny 2 Prompts [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1583290
Comments: 58
Kudos: 18





	1. Begin

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter is from my series Destiny 2 Prompts.

“Well,” Shry took a deep breath. “Time to get started.” She dropped herself into the pilot’s seat of their jumpship and began pre-flight. “Any final notes?”

“None,” Isaac said.

“To the Almighty, then,” she muttered, frowning with distaste. 

The Almighty remained in orbit around Earth’s sun. No one was entirely certain how to remove or destroy it without further destabilizing the sun. While Shry was no longer the only Guardian or Earthborn to have been aboard, she was fairly certain she still came closer to understanding it than most. She had taken Isaac back with her to Io to access the Warmind Vault JYS-2 to get him as close to the same page as her as possible though nothing could replace experience. At least they wouldn’t have to walk around sun-side again. Probably.

Isaac was able to transmat them directly into the Almighty’s weapon systems. She walked into the primary turbine housing and examined the damage. As she thought, she had been quite thorough in her destruction of the turbine itself. She followed the power lines back to where the Almighty had once converted fuel into power. For all the destruction she had caused, the Almighty had not self destructed and there was still a great deal of energy left in the systems. 

Tyra Karn had once helped Shry build a small but functional engram encryption device. She and Isaac had more recently built a newer model with some changes: namely that this encryption device was designed to allow her to meddle with existing encryption and original code, rather than make a new encryption. Isaac had taken to calling it the Modulator. 

Isaac transmatted the device to their location with a prime engram already socketed inside. They had found the engram in a Golden Age vault on Mars and Rasputin had recommended it for her current project. It took them the better part of a day to hook up the Almighty’s power systems to the Modulator in such a way that it would not immediately overload and explode the machine. Their goal was to infuse the engram with power to such a degree that the engram would survive the next several phases of the project without being drained of its purity of energy and essential code.

Eventually satisfied, Isaac set the Modulator to drawing power from the Almighty and they settled in to wait. They simply didn’t have the materials to build an intake coupling for the Modulator that could draw sufficient power to do this quickly without frying the Modulator so they were doing this the long way. Isaac’s current projections put this phase at a duration of somewhere between four and seven days. 

In the end, modulating the engram took one hundred and fifty-nine hours, forty-three minutes, and seven seconds. 

“Could have been worse,” Shry mused, turning the engram over in her hands. “Certainly seems to have worked.”

“Definitively,” Isaac agreed. “I have no record of an engram with anything near this amount of charge by several orders of magnitude.”

Nodding, Shry tossed it towards him and he transmatted it onto the jumpship where he had already stowed the Modulator and their custom intake coupling before transmatting the two of them as well. “Time for the Forge,” she said settling into her chair while Isaac ensured their gear was prepared for travel. When Isaac was settled, she began the trip.

When they arrived at the Lighthouse Shry pressed a small pile of books into Brother Vance’s hands. “This was everything I could find from your list.” 

“Thank you,” he exclaimed, delighted as he looked through her gifts. “I have prepared the Infinite Forge for your arrival.”

“Thank you,” she inclined her head and headed for the Forge as Isaac transmatted the modulated engram to her hands. “Thank you,” she repeated more quietly so as not to disturb Vance’s students and acolytes. 

She carefully calibrated the Forge to accept an engram rather than prophetic codices, having spent months learning how to manipulate the Forge. When Isaac nodded, agreeing that it was properly tuned, she carefully fed the engram into the core. Isaac projected a series of diagrams, providing her with a real time feed of the state of the Forge and the engram. 

“Increasing core temperature,” Shry noted quietly as she manipulated the Forge’s energies. 

“Forge temperatures have reached optimal levels,” Isaac interrupted. Reeling in her control she concentrated to hold the Forge’s internal workings at that intensity. “Stabilizing,” he called. Shortly he added, “Ready to commence,” and “Commencing,” at Shry’s nod.

What followed was an hour or so of bright lights, a fight to maintain the Forge’s internal temperature, and a lot of quiet swearing. When Isaac called out, “Encoding complete,” Shry slumped and carefully reduced the Forge’s temperature and extracted the engram. “It was most certainly affected,” Isaac noted, scanning the engram. “Both the Forge’s and the Lighthouse’s unique energies are now influencing the code.”

“Good,” Shry sighed, recalibrating the Forge back to normal. “Now for the Lectern.” Isaac transmatted them back to the jumpship without expressing his distaste for this phase of the project. Shry set the engram down on the workbench and dropped herself on the cot as Isaac went through the pre-flight checks. 

“That wasn’t as bad as I was afraid it would be,” she admitted. 

“Perhaps the moon will be equally merciful,” Isaac mused.

She snorted. “Un-bloody-likely. Whatever the moon used to be, I don’t think it knows anything about mercy anymore.” 

When they arrived at the Lectern of Enchantment, Shry took the time to meditate with the Cryptoglyph as her focus in order to attune herself. With slow, measured movements she drew a thurible she and Isaac had constructed for the moon’s limited atmosphere from her belt and set incense burning within. Around the basin she spread candles, lit with void light, small solar flares, and arc sparks. Other objects she associated with pure focus she scattered around the table, crystals, stones, a pendulum, a small mirror, and a small, black, crystalline sphere. 

She looked around for Isaac. “You’re sure?” she asked again.

“I am.” 

Nodding, she drew her amulet from where it hung beneath her robes: as many pieces of Arthil’s shattered core as she could find, pressed together again but forever imperfect. Attuned to the Cryptoglyph as she was, she could see things lingering in Arthil’s core that she had never detected before but she did not allow herself to be swayed from her task. Arthil’s core she placed in front of the basin before she turned to Isaac to ask for the engram which she placed in the space between the basin and the Cryptoglyph, not surprised that it floated without assistance.

Shry took three, slow and deliberate breaths as a final preparation as Isaac moved to the opposite side of the Lectern. “Now,” she breathed and dove in. Into the basin she gently dropped alkane dust and spores, dusklight crystals, harmonic seraphite, simulated blooms, matterweave, and several masterwork cores, as well as an engram Rasputin had encoded with the Modulator. She opened a pouch and slowly she poured the contents into the basin: cleansed versions of each of the known essences found on the moon: anguish, brutality, despair, failure, fear, greed, isolation, jealousy, obscurity, rage, servitude, vanity. Lastly she opened a small wooden box from which immediately shone a pure beam of light. Three seeds of Light fell from her hand into the basin and the liquid began to churn. From the bottom of the box she lifted the final piece: a sliver of the Shard of the Traveler in the EDZ. This she slipped gently into the liquid, careful to avoid splashing.

Swallowing thickly, Shry held Arthil’s core in one hand while she ever so gently rested her fingertips on the Cryptoglyph lightly enough that it continued to spin unhindered. One final deep breath, and she triggered the power of the Lectern. 

Shry’s world faded to nothing but Light and she knew no more.


	2. Descend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Drowning

Drowning, she knew, meant she was dead. Shry stared up through the depths toward the surface as gravity pulled her deeper into the water. If she looked down she would see the faces of those lost to the darkness, their suffering, their grief. She’d seen their faces more times than she could count; she didn’t want to see the faces that had been added since the last time she drowned. 

Typically, this would be the point where something would flash before her eyes, some insight into what she was researching, some glimpse of the future, or something fathomless. This time she simply sank and sank; for far longer than her air supply would have lasted in reality she sank. She sank until the faces of those lost were beside her, a flash of the final smirk on a metallic face was there and gone, and she still she sank. Even the dead were closer to the Light now than she and further still she sank. 

Emotions rose within her unbidden and she screamed into the depths. Thrashing, she reached with all her mind’s might for her memories of those she’d loved and lost and hurled them towards the Light she could just barely glimpse beyond the dead. “How dare you let the Light fail them!” she howled. “You invoked us all, reincarnated us, why would you let us fall at all? Do we mean so little to you? Do their deaths mean nothing to you?”

“If you will not save us, if you do not care, more will drop away into the gray or further,” she found herself pleading. “You came here for something. You came here and were followed. You brought us glory and destruction and so many are choosing to go elsewhere for answers because you have not answered them.”

“You loved him too!” she screamed. “You loved him enough he didn’t even have to touch the Shard to be Relit! I know I wasn’t enough to protect him but why was he the one to pay the price? Why not me? Take my Light if you must, I’ve lived enough, but do not leave Arthil in the dark!”

Exhausted, she slumped finally beginning to feel the pressure of the depths on her chest. Again, she stared up, past the dead toward the Light. And she sank. Just as darkness overwhelmed her sight, two beams of light pierced the water - one small, one enormous - and lit her entire being. Everything vanished.


	3. Revive

Shry woke slowly, sounds and smells filtering in and out of her senses: myrrh, ozone, gun oil, “mine,” the grinding of a mortar and pestle, “wrong,” fabric on fabric, “drown,” a rattling sob. Her eyes opened with the sob echoing in her head and myrrh heavy on her breath. Eris. Shry sat up carefully, taking mental inventory of her body to find everything in working order. 

“Isaac?” she called, gingerly settling her feet on the floor. She was in some sort of simple shelter but not somewhere she’d seen before. A tent, of sorts, large enough for two cots and a low table to feel uncrowded. The table was strewn with herbs, crystals, strings of beads, sheets of paper, and a mortar and pestle. 

A faint spark of light was the only warning she got before Isaac transmatted into the tent. “Shry!” He darted to her side and scanned her three times over before he seemed to sigh. Then he pressed his shell against her chest and stayed there, his eye hidden from her.

Shry blinked, her hands automatically coming up to cradle him. He’d never done anything like that before so she decided to give him some time. The tent flap moved and Eris ducked inside, her expression relieved. 

“Good,” the elder Guardian breathed. “We weren’t sure you would wake.”

“What happened?” Shry asked.

Eris settled on the edge of the second cot. “I was not there for your ritual of course. Isaac tells me that when you triggered the Lectern a great deal of Light burst in every direction. We’re lucky it didn’t alter the Cryptoglyph. Or maybe unlucky. You’ve been unconscious for nearly a week.”

Shry sighed. “I’m sorry. I’ve never seen anything cause instability in the Lectern or I wouldn’t have tried-”

“I understand the desperation,” Eris interrupted.

Wincing, Shry fell silent. 

“When he could not wake you Isaac called upon me to aid him in getting you to a more secure location and in… cleaning up the Lectern. You have been here since. He has been more than helpful,” the last she said almost wistfully. 

Shry swallowed repeatedly before shifting her hands gently. “May I see you?” she asked quietly.

“Not yet,” came the muffled response. 

She nodded and pulled the blanket from the cot to make a small nest in her lap, keeping one hand on him at all times. “Maybe I should have done more tests,” she decided eventually. “Was everything destroyed? Was the Lectern badly damaged?”

“The Lectern is simply a series of pieces for interfacing the Cryptoglyph, the essences, and the user,” Eris shook her head. “It is easily repaired. The Cryptoglyph was unharmed.” She knelt and drew a small metal chest from beneath the table. “As for your ritual materials,” she opened the chest to reveal her various focus materials, and something wrapped in cloth. Eris lifted the object from the box and the cloth fell away to reveal an engram. “One could consider the experiment a success,” Eris noted, her voice reflecting her awareness that this wasn’t what they had aimed for.

“I’ve never seen an encryption use four languages at once,” Shry muttered, leaning forward to watch the patterns dance along the facets of the engram. 

“I considered calling in a Cryptarch but decided to wait for you instead,” Eris admitted. “I’m not sure anyone I know would be prepared to do more than shout at you about it.”

Shry laughed, running her spare hand through her hair. “Most likely. I’m probably going to need Rasputin’s help to decode this if I don’t want it to take years.”

Eris turned the engram in her hands, not looking at it but clearly examining it. “You still have records from the World’s Grave?”

“I do,” Shry agreed.

“You will need it, I think, to decrypt the portions of this that are Hive based.”

“I was planning on transferring all of that data to Rasputin, actually. The more he knows about the Hive, the better.”

Eris tilted her head in acknowledgment but neither agreed nor disagreed. 

Isaac shifted in the nest and all of Shry’s attention went to him as he cautiously tilted up to look at her. She ran a finger along the curve of his shell. “Hey,” she said, bending to see him better. “I’m sorry. None of my research suggested that might happen.”

“None of my simulations suggested that might happen,” Isaac said. “I am also sorry.”

“We’ll do better with future projects,” she promised. 

“Does that mean this one is over?” he asked, hesitant.

Shry’s jaw worked and she finally reached for the cord that held Arthil’s core, lifting it up where all three of them could see it. “I-” her voice broke and she swallowed. “Doesn’t seem like it did anything. Probably shouldn’t keep f- messing with something like this and consuming those kinds of resources if it’s not going to work. We’ve got-” she took a deep breath and let it go slowly. “We’ve got living to care for. Tend to the living before the dead.” Eris nodded without judgement. “Yeah, Isaac, this one’s over.”

Eris hefted the engram. 

“Well, except for that. Hopefully decoding it won’t involve any explosions but we’ll wait till we’re with Rasputin just in case.”


	4. Breathe

After a week spent assisting Eris around the moon as a sort of apology for the mess and a thank you for taking care of it, Shry and Isaac piled into their jumpship and headed for Mars. Isaac had never been a chatty individual but he’d been even more reticent than normal since the experiment. More than once Shry had started to try and talk to him about it only for him to swiftly redirect the conversation. For the trip she had decided to try a different tactic.

Comfort wasn’t something that had been a part of their relationship up to this point. That wasn’t entirely true either, but aftercare was a very different creature and it had always been him caring for her. They were still new to that element of their relationship; still learning each others edges and boundaries. Isaac had never expressed an interest in switching roles, which suited her just fine as she knew for certain she wasn’t a switch. But maybe the idea could be carried over; maybe taking away all expectations and simply providing a space to be comfortable and safe would be comforting. 

Once everything was settled and the flight was in process she beckoned Isaac over to where she sat in the pilot’s seat and gently nestled him in the folds of a shawl she’d found and twisted in her lap. She left one hand in the nest with him and with the other she flipped through reports on a flight console, skimming through the signals bouncing around the system in order to catch up on the news. She could sense his hesitance at first, but when she continued to be quiet he burrowed in deeper. The rest of the trip passed in silence. 

Shry spoke softly when she informed Ana of their arrival over comms. As they landed Isaac turned in the nest to look up at her and when she looked back they held each other’s gaze. Isaac tilted his shell into her hand without looking away. Shry smiled and gently squeezed her fingers against his shell. She stood, leaving the shawl in the chair. He started to float away from her hand but she gently coaxed him back and into the crook of her elbow where she tucked it against her side as she headed for the exit. 

They spent close to a month on Mars with Ana and Rasputin poring over the engram and its oddities. Eventually, though, a call came through from Sagira asking for their help resolving another one of Osiris’ mistakes. Shry left the engram in Rasputin’s capable hands and headed for Mercury. By the time they returned from cleaning up yet another wobbly, volatile time stream situation there was a message from Rasputin waiting for them. He had decoded the engram. It was a Ghost Shell.

Shry spent over a week going over every inch of the shell to be absolutely certain it was safe. She had Rasputin scan it, she had Ana scan it, she had Isaac scan it, she sent copies of the scans to Failsafe, Astrophel, Vynn, Sagira, and Asher Mir to see if they could find any issues with the shell. All replied that it looked safe enough; though due to its component nature Vynn cautioned against working too closely with the Vex and the Hive due to their capacity to spread to other entities. So Shry went through it again looking for any sign at all of the Vex or Hive’s capacity to infect. When neither she nor Ana nor Rasputin could find any such sign, Shry asked if Isaac was interested.

Isaac decided to give the shell a try. What he found after using the shell for a time was that it created a simpler interface for him to use when accessing Vex and Hive energies and data. The interface, he noted, was fashioned very similarly to those Rasputin had provided for Ana to use. He also noted, though he did not say so aloud, that this shell was better suited to resting in the crook of her arm than the other and thus he found it preferable.


	5. Surprise

They were on Io when it began. Rasputin had asked them to survey an old Warsat launch facility for parts and potential repairs. Since falling into disrepair it had been the site of several resource battles, but Rasputin was confident enough in certain areas of the facility still being hidden that they had agreed to investigate when Rasputin offered them a map to the relevant hidden chambers and the master passcode. 

Afterwards it would seem like it happened very fast but in the moment it happened quite slowly. 

Isaac input the master passcode to open one of the last secure vaults they’d come across while Shry leaned against the wall. These particular doors took almost two minutes to open entirely but could close in an instant. As soon as there was space for his shell Isaac slipped inside the vault and began cataloguing its contents. Rasputin had loaned them a larger ship for this venture than they usually traveled in and when they had finished their inventory he would give them a list of priority containers to transport back to Mars with them at which point Rasputin would organize transport of the rest of the materials. 

Isaac came to the back of the vault about the same time that Shry entered. “Oh,” he sighed. “Body,” he called to Shry as he moved to scan the remains. “EXO, appears to have suffered from DER,” he modulated his voice to be more respectful. 

Shry stepped carefully around the stacks of storage modules to join him. “When were the doors last accessed?”

“Logs indicate that the doors were opened during a human-human conflict after the departure of the Traveler. They were shut again a few hours later, almost immediately before the rest of the facility went into the lockdown that we lifted with the master passcode upon arrival.”

“So this poor guy ran in here to hide and then got trapped and died to Exomind Rejection? That’s horrific,” she knelt and examined the body. “Odd, though. During the Golden Age Exos were created to be war machines. The fact that this Exo even had the option to retreat and hide suggests that they may have been used for other purposes as well.” She paused. “Or that DER was already affecting him when he ran in here.”

From there they surveyed the remaining three locked vaults, got the list of priority containers from Rasputin and transmatted them into the ship. 

“Should we retrieve the body as well?” Isaac ventured. “I have found no record of his identity in local archives. Given the DER decay there is nothing left of his identity. It isn’t often that an intact Exo is found so pristine. It could be useful for understanding Exos.”

Shry grimaced but nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense. I wouldn’t normally call transmatting disrespectful but given the day we’ve had I think I’d rather carry him to the ship rather than treat him the same way we treat crates of spare parts.”

“Understood,” Isaac said, unbothered and already closing and locking the other vault doors in the facility. They retrieved the body and Shry carried it into the ship. The ship had a small medbay so Shry left the body there, covering him with a sheet. 

The trip back to Mars was taken up by one of Isaac’s ambushes, leaving Shry breathless and a fair bit giggly for their landing. She didn’t bother getting back into her robes, trusting Rasputin and Ana to have the LZ clear for their arrival, instead tossing on a tunic, trousers, and boots. Arthil’s core swung from its cord around her neck as she jogged to the cargo hold to help moving the crates. 

Ana laughed an hour later when she arrived and saw Shry in street clothes. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dressed down,” she said, gently pushing Shry’s shoulder to encourage her to do a spin. “You look good!”

“Thanks,” Shry laughed, rubbing at her neck. “Time got away from me a bit on the way back but I figured it wouldn’t be an issue here.”

“Nah, we got this,” Ana grinned. “Thanks so much for helping! Is this everything?”

“This is everything on Rasputin’s priority list,” Isaac noted, appearing beside them. “However…”

“Right,” Shry sighed. “We found a fully intact Exo body in one of the vaults. Poor guy tried to escape some fighting and got trapped when the facility locked down. DER.”

Ana sighed. “DER’s on my list of things to more fully analyze when Rasputin’s priorities will allow me to allocate some processing power to it. I can’t help but feel at least a little responsible.”

“Not everything Clovis Bray did is on you, you know,” Shry said, watching Ana.

“Yeah,” the woman managed a smile. “Do you have a plan for the Exo?”

“Not really,” Shry shook her head.

“I assumed that an intact Exo body would be a useful piece for study,” Isaac explained. 

Ana considered. “I know Rasputin has the full schematics somewhere in his archives but it may be in one of the lost vaults. I’m sure I can find a place to store the body until we can dedicate the proper resources.”

“I’ll get him then,” Shry said, waving Isaac toward Ana and Jinju to keep helping. “Same sled or-?” she called as she turned toward the ship. 

“Same sled,” Ana called back. “Only have the one.”

Shry walked back into the tiny medbay and sighed, standing over the body for a moment. She saw death nearly every day but sometimes it hit harder than others. “Wherever you went, I hope you found peace and I hope you don’t mind us using what’s left of you to try and find peace for others like you.” She let the words linger in the silence for a moment before leaning across the gurney to trigger the cot to trigger the built-in hover function. 

She heard a thud while she tried to get the button unstuck, followed by a quiet, “Ow.”

Shry quickly stepped back and away from the Exo as the body began to shift, entirely confused.

“What is-” the voice came again and the Exo began to paw at the sheet. She slipped to the foot of the cot and gently tugged the sheet away. “Oh, that’s better.” 

Something in Shry ground to a halt at that voice even as the Exo became more lively. 

“Are my scanners non-functional? I must have taken damage somehow. Why can’t I- hm. Wait, I can’t sense-” the Exo flailed suddenly, all of its limbs moving incoherently. “I have to- where- Shry! Where are you? I can't sense you!”


	6. Substitution

It took several false starts for Shry to breathe. “Ar- Arthil, honey, I need you to be still.”

The EXO’s flailing ceased though its head continued moving oddly. “Shry, where are you? I can’t-”

“I’m okay. I’m right here. I’m gonna help you out okay? Don’t, um. Don’t be too startled when I touch you.”

“I should know when you’re going to touch me; what do you mean- _oh_ ,” Arthil’s voice went breathless when Shry took hold of his shoulders and maneuvered him into an upright, sitting position. “There you are! Wait, why are you crying?”

She hadn’t even noticed. “I have fleshy human emotions, remember?” Sniffing, she shifted his legs to hang off the cot at the knee. “But um. Well. It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten to hear your voice and I wasn’t expecting you to wake up today.”

“You didn’t expect me to wake up,” he said slowly, catching on to her turn of phrase. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what happened to you. We argued, I ran off, I sensed you in danger, but you were destroyed when I got back,” Shry’s voice broke and Isaac materialized in the room, immediately on guard. 

“Shry?” 

“I’m okay. We just need a minute.”

“We?”

“Yeah, uh. Arthil’s... um.”

“Ah,” Isaac said. “I’ll be with Ana.” He vanished and Shry felt her emotions twist.

“Who was that? I didn’t see.” Arthil was still struggling with motor control.

“That was Isaac. I guess I’ll introduce you soon.”

“I was destroyed? I don’t feel dead. I suppose I don’t know what dead would feel like.”

“You were. Your core was in pieces. I kept them. Tried some things to get you back but I didn’t think anything worked. I don’t know how this happened,” she took a moment to breathe. “You’re not exactly a Ghost anymore, Arthil.”

“What do you mean, not exactly a Ghost?” his voice turned suspicious. Shry reached out and took up one of his hands and held it where he could see it and then ran her fingers along the plates and lines so he could see and feel in real time. “ _Oh_ , that’s- what is? An EXO hand? But why would, _oh_.” 

“Somehow, you’re now in an EXO body. That’s why your senses don’t make sense and your motor control is off.”

Her hands slid away from his and the sound of loss that came out of him ran shivers down her spine. Even so, he was immediately distracted by watching how the joints of his fingers articulated. 

“Years?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah,” she managed, swiping at her face.

“Shry, you- You’re the least careful person I know. How did you survive years without m- a Ghost?”

She snorted and shook her head. “I, uh. I didn’t. Failsafe called up a lot of unpaired Ghosts and Isaac stayed with me.”

Arthil finally managed to turn his head to look at her. “That was your Ghost then? Isaac?”

“Yes. I-”

“I was dead,” he said slowly. “And I can’t be a Ghost anymore.”

A sob broke free in Shry’s chest. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t- this isn’t what I thought would happen.”

“What did you think would happen?” his voice was flat.

“I thought you’d come back to your core,” she admitted, voice cracking even as she held it up from its cord.

He stared at it blankly before twitching. “That’s me.” He shook himself. “You thought I’d come back to my core when you already had another Ghost.”

“Isaac agreed to it,” she said, miserably. “He said if you came back, you were my Ghost. He called himself a substitute and I… let him.”

Arthil stared at her for a long moment. “Where are we?”

“Mars. Ana Bray has a base here.”

“Not dead, then?”

“Not dead.”

“I need some time to myself.”

Shry stumbled to her feet. “Of course. What… whatever you need,” she wrung her hands. 

“Introduce me to Ana, please,” he reached out one arm for assistance moving. She helped him stand and coached him through his first few steps. When they made it off the ship, Ana was waiting, clearly having been informed by Isaac. 

“Hey there,” she said cheerfully. “I’m Ana and that’s Jinju. It’s really great to finally meet you.”

“A pleasure,” he said, some of his old charm in his voice. “It is a relief to know that the tales of your demise were incorrect.”

She grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, well. Sometimes you have to go off and do something for yourself.”

“Ah,” he understood. “It would seem I’ve missed a great deal; would you mind terribly if I spent some time here to catch up on things?”

“Sure,” she said slowly, looking at Shry in confusion. “I’d assumed you’d want to stick with Shry.”

“I’d like to take some time for myself first,” he said simply.

“Okay, sure,” Ana nodded. “I mean, it’s just us and Rasputin and the occasional invasion, but if that’s what you want, sure.”

“Rasputin?” Arthil asked. 

“Yeah, the primary Golden Age Warmind,” Ana grinned. “I helped teach him when I was still human.”

“I see,” he said in the tone of voice that Shry knew meant he wasn’t thrilled. “I appreciate your willingness to let me stay here.”

“Sure thing,” she grinned. “We can head back to the Futurescape and get you set up if you like.”

“That would be excellent,” he agreed, readily following Ana toward the sled.

Isaac manifested at Shry’s side. “There is now nothing remaining in the core. Not even an impression of Light.” Shry started and glanced at the core still in her hand as Isaac continued. “Light emanations consistent with the Shard of the Traveler detected in the EXO platform that were not there at last scan.”

Shry sniffed and ran her sleeve under her nose. “Okay. Well. Forward that to Jinju and then I think we’re leaving.”

Isaac’s shell tilted. “Leaving?”

“It’s what he wants,” she managed.

Isaac did not respond outside of transmatting them back to the Groundswell Nullifier99. Shry shook her feet out of her boots and dropped herself onto her cot, one arm draped over her eyes as she shuddered. He carefully transmatted her boots onto the rack by the gangplank, a handkerchief to the shelf by the cot, and a blanket over Shry before settling against her right shoulder, silent witness to her grief.


	7. Reframing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthil!!!

Arthil sat quietly in the Futurescape and stared out at Mars, doing his best to settle his mind into a semblance of order. He could remember arguing with Shry; it was only moments ago for him after all. As usual, they had argued about her lack of caution in combat, the way she was consistently more injured than he thought was reasonable after each mission. She had smiled and laughed at first and told him she had nothing to fear as long as he was with her.

She always said that. Every time. It had set him off and he railed at her over unnecessary risks, enumerating just some of the reasons why she should be more careful. She had closed off, her expression getting darker with time until she finally snapped back.

“Why are you mad at me for trusting you to have my back?”

“I shouldn’t have to!” he’d shouted.

“You’re the one who chose to raise me, to be a Guardian’s Ghost,” she’d said in a voice so emotionless it had sent tendrils of fear lancing through him. “If you’re not happy with your choice, we need to talk about that. In the meantime, I’m taking a walk. I suggest you do the same.”

Walk was their word for taking time to cool off before they spoke again. Arthil had taken her suggestion and found a small path to follow into one of the cliffs of Io. He had spun in circles, talking to himself, terrified of the idea Shry wanted to leave him and unable to call the desire unreasonable.  
He was so afraid for her. She’d been incautious enough before the Red War but since? It seemed there was no task dangerous enough for her, no risk she wasn’t willing to take. 

Thanks to his inability to talk to her properly, she now thought he’d rather be without her. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her. Quite the opposite, in fact! He not only wanted her, he wanted to have her forever and these risks made it seem like she didn’t want the same from him.

His entire purpose was to see her safe. He wanted nothing more. It wasn’t that he himself was afraid, or unwilling to go face-first into danger; he was frightened by Shry’s apathetic approach to her own life. Arthil had known within an hour of raising her that she was an adrenaline junkie, within a day that she didn’t mind getting hurt to reach her goals. It had taken him a few weeks to comprehend that she simply was not concerned for herself. 

Some would consider this an ideal trait in a Guardian. Arthil did not care. She was his Guardian. He would do his damndest to keep her safe. 

Safe wasn’t really in Shry’s vocabulary. And in the end, it wasn’t Shry who had needed to be protected, kept safe. It was Arthil. He probably should have seen that coming. She had survived Dominus Ghaul kicking her off his flagship without him. She might not be unassailable, but somehow she was damn near indestructible purely by her own will alone. A Ghost though? Especially one out in the open and without their Guardian? Weakness. 

In the end, it wasn’t Shry’s addiction to injury that had destroyed them. It was his own fragility. All that time he had spent lecturing her on her methods would have been better spent seeing to his own security. 

Now he would never have that chance. 

Arthil was wondering if this Isaac fellow had taken those lessons to heart when his emotions caught up with him. Shry had taken another Ghost. Shry had replaced him. She had replaced him and she hadn’t had the guts to fully commit to this other Ghost? How dare she? How-

He choked on his emotions. He knew how she dared. He was the one who taught her that the Guardian to Ghost relationship did not automatically mean perfect trust. His vulnerability taught her that the relationship wasn’t forever. 

Isaac considered himself a substitute Ghost after working with Shry for years. Arthil tried to imagine what that felt like, tried to imagine what a grieving Shry might say or do with a different Ghost. That Isaac had felt Shry’s distress and come to find her, only to immediately, voluntarily leave when he understood the situation spoke of the kind of trust Arthil had never given Shry. It had to be that Isaac trusted Shry after all; the Ghost had no reason to trust Arthil. What if the problem had never been Shry after all? What if the problem had been Arthil all along?

Arthil stood and began to practice walking to give himself something less awful to consider. He had not yet been brave enough to ask why they were friends with the Warmind. He was sure it would come up in the process of getting caught up on the past few years. Ana had set up a terminal attached to her servers for him with the same level of clearance as Shry. Jinju had offered to answer questions when she was free and Ana said that he could use their comms system any time. He was infinitely grateful. They didn’t know him at all and still they were willing to do so much for him. 

Still, he did not know them or how their biases worked. He would need to get in contact with people he knew in order to get answers he could trust fully. It was his intention to get in touch with Astrophel and Katya-7, Failsafe, Cayde-6, and maybe Ophiuchus. Astrophel would be more honest with him than anyone else. Katya-7 would give him a more accurate perspective on Shry than nearly anyone else would be able to give. Failsafe was clearly familiar with Isaac and so would hopefully give him more information there. Cayde-6 would be obnoxious about it but he always had good information and was more loyal to Shry than the rest of the Vanguard. If he still didn’t have all the information he needed, he would consider contacting Ikora’s Ghost for further information. 

Finding himself suddenly far too lonely to wait, Arthil confirmed the comms array was available before attempting to connect to Astrophel’s network via the Futurescape network. Ana’s system was frighteningly efficient and Arthil worked not to think about the fact that he was using the same system as a Warmind.

“Hello the Futurescape, this is the Temerity. Don’t think I’ve ever seen a call from you tagged “social” before. What’s going on?”

Arthil sighed with relief at hearing Astrophel’s voice. “Hey, Astrophel, um. This is Arthil, apparently.”

There was a long silence on the other side. “You bloody what?” Astrophel barked. “Where are you? Shry’s-”

“I’m on Mars? Apparently that’s a thing now. I um. Asked Shry to give me some space.”

“I need you to back up. Why are you on Mars and why would you want space from Shry?”

“I’m still not sure why I’m on Mars, if I’m honest. I only woke up about two hours ago. And I, uh, asked Shry for space because the last thing I remember we were shouting at each other and it got ugly.”

“Well damn.” Astrophel muttered. “Okay. What do you need?”

“Pointers on being an EXO would be good, I guess,” Arthil sighed once he recovered from Astrophel cursing. “Because that’s what I am now, somehow.”

“Right. Fuck this. We’ll be on Mars tomorrow, okay?”

“You don’t have to-”

“Oh shut up,” Astrophel moaned. “You and Shry and the whole don’t you dare take care of me thing. We’ll be there tomorrow. In the meantime try again with the whole EXO thing?”

Arthil almost managed a smile and began recounting everything he could remember while he sent a non-urgent alert to Jinju to let her know about the Temerity’s ETA. 

Once they arrived, Katya-7 spent hours with him going over everything she could think of that might be relevant or at least helpful to his adjustment. Arthil was touched. He hadn’t imagined Katya cared. When he admitted as much to Astrophel the Ghost made an exasperated noise. 

“She’s the worst at communicating is really all it is. She’s tremendously attached and somehow the only ones who know about it are me, Shry, Isaac, and Silla.”

“Silla?” 

“She’s our new baby hunter. I may have sort of accidentally adopted her but Shry’s already mentioned making her Hunter Vanguard once so I feel justified.”

“Why are we replacing Cayde?”

Astrophel went still. “Because Cayde died. Sundance was killed and Cayde died.”

“Oh,” Arthil breathed, chest tight.

“Ikora went to ragey pieces and Zavala did his whole united-front bullshit and yeah. And Osiris is back. Don’t ask Isaac about Osiris, that won’t go well.” Arthil had forgotten that Astrophel fell back on Katya-5’s speech patterns when he was distressed.

“Why?” Arthil asked, suddenly desperate for some sort of flaw in his replacement.

“I don’t know exactly how it happened but whatever Osiris and his Ghost Sagira did made Shry cry.”

Arthil froze, his whole world narrowing. “What?”

“Okay, yup. Remember the part where I don’t know what happened? If you want to join the murder-Osiris-slowly team, just let Isaac know. I’m sure he’ll be delighted.”

Jaw working, Arthil sighed. “Okay. Tell me about Isaac. Shry said something about Failsafe picking him?” He was pleased that his tone accurately represented his scepticism. 

Astrophel considered him for a moment. “I think you underestimate the degree to which Failsafe adores Shry. Every Ghost she called up was very carefully vetted and even then Failsafe sent a few of them away once they arrived. Shry hardly noticed, apparently. Just too out of it.”

“Out of it?”

“She sustained some injuries getting off Io without transmat. And she was just… barely there when I spoke with her. It took her months to start talking again. For the longest time Failsafe was the only one who could get her to smile. I don’t know how long it took her to really get comfortable with Isaac but it took ages. Anyway. Isaac. He’s usually pretty quiet, doesn’t often volunteer information. Stays entirely on her right side. I know he’s worked at getting her to work with people more often. I don’t know much about the project they did to try and bring you back but I know he did everything in his power to get it to work.”

Arthil clenched and unclenched his hands. “Shry said he called himself a substitute Ghost. That he planned on me being her Ghost if it had worked the way they intended.”

Astrophel spun in the air, a low whistling noise emitting from his speakers. “I didn’t expect that. He’s been all in ever since I met him. I wouldn’t have called him a substitute at all.”

“Well,” Arthil shrugged. “He’s clearly not a substitute,” he gestured toward himself. “I’m not a Ghost.”

“It’s strange though, you still read as Light-made,” Astrophel mused. “Like a Ghost does if you can get past the influence the Guardian has on their aura.”

“Or an unpaired Ghost.”

“Not so much. You still feel bound to me. Just distant. Kind of like Ophiucus does most of the time.”

“I want to be a Ghost, Astrophel. I don’t… I don’t want to be this.”

“I’m afraid you’ll either have to get used to it or give up, my friend,” Astrophel said, bluntly.

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

“Back to recent history, shall we?”

“Please. And, Astrophel? Thank you.”


	8. Fears

Isaac was miserable. First he had agreed to help Shry pursue the resurrection of her former Ghost. Second the whole endeavor had very literally blown up. Third they had agreed to table the issue of bring Arthil back in favor of seeing to their other concerns. Fourth Arthil had not only come back anyway, he had come back in the wrong body type. Fifth- Fifth… Arthil had been displeased with his status and apparently with Shry. This had all been a deeply regrettable miscalculation. 

How Arthil could hear what had happened and what Shry had been through and be displeased to see her, no matter what the origin of his sensory data was entirely baffled Isaac. To this very moment Isaac was not only impressed with her survival but also with her willingness to continue helping the very people who caused so much of her suffering. 

He turned to observe Shry as she slept. She had cried herself to sleep not long ago. Her body was tense, and there were deep lines on her forehead and between her eyes. From time to time her hands would clench or unclench. 

Based on the stories he had heard of Shry and Arthil’s exploits, he had drawn a number of conclusions about her former Ghost and it was based on those conclusions that he had agreed to pursue Arthil’s return. He had believed that Arthil understood Shry. He had believed that Arthil was good for her. He had believed that Arthil had been a stabilizing influence on her. He had believed that Arthil stabilized and understood Shry, had been good for her, all more than Isaac was capable of being or doing. He had believed that having him back would ultimately benefit her more than having Isaac as a Ghost would. 

Isaac was reminded that people were often gentler in their assessments of the dead than they were of the living. He wished he had factored that into his calculations. 

Even after Arthil’s death, Shry had never been like this. She had never stared at the world and shook as she had when they had gotten back to the ship. It seemed as though she had entered into a panic state so deep that there was no longer room for any other consideration. 

Isaac was deeply concerned for Shry. She had internalized Arthil’s displeasure to a degree that left her entire paradigm shattered. She had allowed the opinion of a person who no longer knew her well to affect her so. And this was all on top of his more typical concerns for Shry: her self loathing, her needs not being met, her trauma, the grief she wore like a cloak, her general refusal to ask for help, the way she could break into rage without warning. 

This could very well be a breaking point, he knew. He feared. The simplest fix would be Arthil retracting his displeasure and reinstating Shry in his good graces. It would only be a temporary solution, of course. It might slow the inexorable approach of the moment Shry finally found a cliff from which she could not fly but… 

Isaac had held such hopes for their various endeavors bringing Shry further from that edge but perhaps they had only been distractions from the true dangers. Perhaps he had improperly prioritized everything since the day Shry had accepted him as her Ghost. 

Isaac connected to the ship’s communication array and sent out a request for contact. An hour later the call connected. 

“Eris?” he asked, speaking only through the connection. His voice sounded wrong even to him.

“Isaac. What’s wrong?”

“What did you… When you broke, what did you want as support?”

Eris was silent for a long moment. “I broke in… stages. I craved different things at different times but never received them. When I broke the final time I was deep within the Hellmouth with only the Hive by my side. By that time my wants were too many to answer with something so simple as support.”

Isaac felt himself shudder. “I don’t know how to help either of you,” he admitted, his voice quiet. 

She sighed. “Who do you grieve for now, my friend? Your Guardian or yourself? At least be honest with yourself.”

He recoiled within his shell but forced himself to consider. “I do not grieve for myself,” he said slowly. “I grieve that I cannot help, yes, but if anything I am… I do not fear for myself.”

“She is… inflexible,” Eris said slowly. “She must continue to break until she can learn to bend. She must learn to bend until she is a complete cycle in and of herself. She must decide for herself to bend and what that means.”

Isaac struggled to find something actionable within Eris’ words. “Is there a way I can help?”

“She has to choose it,” Eris reminded him. 

“How can I ensure she has the time to choose?” his desperation bled through into his voice.

“You can’t.”

A pressure built within him and Isaac found himself longing for the ability to scream, to writhe. “Eris,” his voice flanged. 

“You may show her the path but that is all. She may turn away.”

“I have to try.”

“Yes,” Eris agreed. “And I hope you succeed.”

He took a moment to compose himself. “Thank you for answering my call.”

“Be brave.” 

The connection cut and Isaac was left with the metaphorical task of blazing a trail. He was left with his fears.


	9. Mission

The alert for an attempt at a call connection caught Isaac’s attention and he linked with the comms system. The Temerity. He steadied himself. 

“Hello, the Temerity,” he managed.

“Issac,” Katya-7’s voice came through. “How’s she doing?”

“Shry is sleeping at the moment. Why do you ask?”

She made a clicking sound with her jaw plate. “We’re on Mars now. Astrophel’s working on getting Arthil calm.”

“That’s kind of him,” he decided.

“How are you?”

“I… am.”

“Yeah. Okay. Walk me through it from the top.”

Isaac did. He began with Shry’s original questions about Ghosts and their makeup. He explained the development of their theories and ideas and how they had brought all of the disparate concepts together, how it had exploded, how they’d let it go and moved on, how that hadn’t mattered. 

“Hn,” he could almost hear her fingers tapping against her side. “I’ve done what I can for him. He’s got everything he needs to know to function as an EXO now. It’s up to Astrophel from this point. What’s your plan for Shry?”

“It’s too much,” he said at once. “I want to cancel all her appointments and hide her away somewhere but I don’t know where. I don’t know who I can trust around her.”

“That’s not something you can ask people,” Katya pointed out. “No one knows her. She doesn’t let people know her. I don’t think I’ve heard her use the word friend for anyone but me and Astrophel in a long time.”

“I don’t think she should be alone, but I don’t see an alternative,” he admitted.

The EXO sighed. “I would have said stick her on Mars but Arthil took that one. I know she likes poking at the Vex so you could go to Mercury or Io. There’s always the Farm, I guess.”

Isaac considered. “She does enjoy Suraya’s people. Perhaps a camp not far outside of the Farm.”

“Silla’s got the EDZ memorized. Check with her if you want up to date information on the Farm and the people there.”

“I will, thank you.” Isaac was relieved. “You’re much more immediately helpful than Eris.”

A sound that was almost a laugh came across the call. “I’ll put it on my business card,” she joked. “More immediately helpful than Eris Morn.”

It was a strange day when Katya-7 was the one making jokes. 

“I am afraid,” he confessed.

“I’d be concerned if you weren’t. This is the time to be afraid. This is the time to do what you have to do anyway.” Her voice was gentle but firm.

“I intend to,” he insisted. “I think I wish I had done this sooner.”

“You can’t afford to think like that,” she pointed out. “You don’t have the time and it’s not productive. In the future, don’t hesitate to go with your instinct but right now you have to move.”

“Instinct?” he wondered at her word choice.

“You’re her Ghost, Isaac. When you think she needs something, you’re probably right. No one knows her better than you do, certainly not her.”

“I did not raise her,” he reminded her. “We don’t have that kind of-”

“Shut up,” Katya commanded, interrupting him. When she was certain she was obeyed she continued. “You are her Ghost. Arthil is not. Hasn’t been for a long damn time. Arthil died as her Ghost, sure but he died. That connection ended. Whatever he has is different now and is utterly irrelevant to what she needs. He may be back but they’re done as Ghost and Guardian. You are her Ghost. The bond and connection you have with her is unique and rare. Stop undervaluing it immediately.”

Isaac hovered in stillness, his mind far afield. When he returned to himself he was decided. “Very well.”

“Good,” Katya-7 sounded far more relieved than he expected. 

“Was I that out of order?” he mused.

“Yes. You were,” her voice steady, unwavering. 

“I see,” he said quietly, re-examining his perspective.

“See if you can’t find her more friends while you’re out there, yeah? Maybe a few for yourself. There’s a reason they call it a support network.”

“Katya…” he began.

“I know.”

“Thank you.”

She snorted. “Keep her alive long enough for me to get some more free time and I’ll come throw trees at her or something.”

“I will.”

“I know.”


	10. Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter brought to you by tornadoes. :)

By the time they landed in the EDZ Silla and Bee were waiting for them. The young Hunter bounded to meet them as they descended the gangplank. Silla’s helmet was missing again so they could see her beaming at them. Isaac felt Shry start to see Silla’s hair styled exactly like Vynn Faer’s.

“I hope you’re ready for a hike!” she exclaimed, skipping pleasantries. “Promise it’s worth it.”

Isaac spoke up when Shry shrugged. “Lead the way.”

Silla led them through the forest for hours and not a word was said the entire way. From time to time the Hunter would vanish from view only to be found again a few hundred yards away, leaning against a tree to wait. Eventually they emerged from the trees into a clearing that ended in a cliff. From the cliff they could see the better part of the zone. 

“Here’s some basic supplies that most Guardians don’t think to keep around,” Silla announced, producing a pack from somewhere and hanging it by a strap from a branch. “There’s a decent landing spot close by, fresh water source, small game. You’ll have to do that yourself though,” she smirked and the expression reminded Isaac of Vynn again. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

“Sure,” she shrugged. Then she stilled and turned her focus on Shry. “It’s real easy to get to the Blackened Forest from here. I get the impression you might have unfinished business there.”

Shry’s gaze lingered on the way the Hunter’s hands rested on her belt. Eventually she lifted her eyes to meet Silla’s. “Okay.” 

Silla quirked a grin before waving as Bee chirped a goodbye and they vanished into the forest.

Shry stood unmoving in the clearing. Slowly the calls of birds and the wind in the trees filtered through to Isaac and he wondered why he’d never taken the time to listen to the sounds of the EDZ. When he brought his attention back to center he found Shry watching him and part of him lurched to have her attention again. He drifted to her side. 

“What are we doing here?” she asked, near silent.

“Living,” he said. “No schedule, nowhere to be, no one to wear masks for.” She crooked her arm and he settled into his place against her side with relief bordering on hysteria. “As long as we want.” He could sense her swallow, could sense her hesitation, turmoil. 

“What’s the sack for?” she asked instead.

“Tools and supplies. When I asked Silla to suggest a place, she decided that you should set up a camp entirely yourself and live off the land. I can bring down whatever supplies you want if you’d rather-”

Shry was already moving toward the sack, gently drawing Isaac from her elbow and ushering him up to her collarbone with one hand. She rummaged through the sack, eventually producing a hand axe. “Shelter first, right?”

“Shelter and water first,” he agreed, relief broadening. There were times when Shry was easily biddable; all one had to do was point and she would begin. But more often of late she had been difficult to direct. There was a strong correlation between how safe she felt and how biddable she was. That she still felt safe with him even now nearly overwhelmed his sense of the Traveler’s Light with emotion.

After several hours of work Shry had constructed a simple tarp shelter on a wooden frame. A small mound of stones had become a place for a fire, the stones arranged such that the fire would be off the ground but also shielded from the wind. The sack provided them with a bucket and they wandered the forest for a while before finding a small stream. 

Nightfall found them under the shelter with a fire crackling merrily before them as Shry sipped on a cup of tea. “What have I missed?” she asked finally.

He watched her contemplatively. “Do you want me to answer that question or do you want me to manage it?” When she turned to look at him it was with near complete presence. Isaac always felt small beneath the full weight of her focus, small but never weak. He hadn’t expected her to have the energy for it yet. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or afraid.

“I can sense your pain too,” she reminded him. “I know you’re hurt.”

“And? It’s been hardly any time at all and already I am beginning to recover.”

“Isaac,” she sighed. “You shouldn’t have to-”

“Stop,” his voice neared authoritative. “I am your Ghost. There is no should here. I want to.”

Her breath caught in her throat and she curled in on herself, tears already on her face. “I’m so sorry, Isaac. I never thought you weren’t my Ghost. You’ve always been so kind to me. I just-”

“Shry,” he moved close enough to gently nudge her cheek. “You missing Arthil is natural. I am well, or approaching it.”

She turned and cupped her hands around him and leaned her forehead forward until it barely rested against his frame. “I don’t know who I’m going to be when I open my eyes next,” she admitted quietly.

“Mine,” he said immediately. As she wept he transmatted a blanket from the ship around her shoulders and a handkerchief next to her. 

Her voice shook with her sobs as she clutched him to her chest. “It’s going to get worse, isn’t it? I’m going to get worse.”

“Most likely.”

“Isaac…”

“I can manage it,” he told her.

“You shouldn’t-” she cut herself off with a flush, remembering his earlier words. 

“You’ve carried the solar system for years now. Let me carry you,” he begged.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay.”


	11. Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ghosts Talk!!!

Arthil took a deep breath and typed out the command to initiate the call.

“Hello Futurescape. How can I help you today?” the voice he remembered as Isaac’s answered.

“Hey Isaac. This is Arthil.”

A beat of silence. “Greetings,” the Ghost said finally. “Give me a moment to complete my current task and I will give you my full attention.”

“Sure,” Arthil agreed easily, glad for a chance to try and stay calm. He and Astrophel had agreed that he needed to talk to Isaac but Arthil had resisted making contact for nearly a week. 

“Thank you for your patience,” Isaac’s voice returned. “I am here.”

“I-” Arthil’s voice flanged. “Thank you,” he managed.

“Ah.” Isaac was silent for a moment. “Before the Red War I once observed yourself and Shry on Nessus. You traveled through a valley together and were discussing Cayde-6’s stories, whether or not you thought they were true. You told her that they were true to Cayde and that was more informative than the stories themselves and she laughed. I had never seen the Light move like it did between the two of you.”

Arthil could feel himself seizing up. He could remember that conversation, though he didn’t remember sensing other Ghosts in the area at the time. “The Light only did that when she laughed like that. Almost never happened,” he choked out.

“It was the first time I felt incomplete without a Guardian,” Isaac admitted.

“Okay,” he breathed. “So. You’re it. Tag, I guess. Here’s everything I’ve managed to get together on reinforcing shells.” Arthil punched send and tried not to chew on his fingers.

There was a considerable silence. “Thank you,” Isaac said, finally, his tone difficult to parse. “This is… impressive, for one and I-” the Ghost went quiet again. 

“I messed up,” Arthil whispered. “I messed up and she still hasn’t stopped paying for it.”

“You did not destroy yourself,” Isaac pointed out.

“No. But instead of yelling at her to take better care of herself, I should have taken care of myself. I’m her- I was her last line of defense. I failed. You can’t.”

“No,” Isaac said slowly. “No, I can’t. Thank you, Arthil.”

“Yeah, um. You’re welcome.” There was a long silence between them before Arthil spoke up again. “So, has she told you about the bracelet?”

“No. I have no relevant data regarding a bracelet.”

Arthil nodded, unsurprised, and forwarded his own memories that he’d uploaded to the server as data packets. “She hated talking about it, always said it didn’t matter. It never stopped itching at me though. I think it’s important.”

“Instincts,” Isaac muttered. 

“Yeah, like that.”

“This…” Isaac sighed. “You’re right. This… itches. I do not like it.”

Arthil deflated, relieved. “I kinda felt crazy.”

“You are far from crazy,” Isaac’s voice was unexpectedly gentle. 

Sniffing, Arthil felt himself relax further though he didn’t know why. “I… probably don’t have the right to ask how she’s doing, do I?”

“You have the right, but I do not know if I have the right to answer you,” Isaac sounded conflicted. 

“That’s… that’s fair,” Arthil decided. “I don’t think I’m ready to face her yet, myself.”

“Never, ever doubt that she loves you,” Isaac’s voice had changed to something so sure, so solid that Arthil could not begin to deflect. He felt like he’d lost all sense of gravity. It was at once comforting and disorienting.

“ _Oh_ ,” he breathed. “I- _fuck_." Arthil swore for the first time in his life. "I miss her so much it’s like I’m missing half my soul but I can’t feel her anymore.” Isaac made a sound like a wounded animal. “But I know I don’t know who she is anymore. I know my failure is the reason why I can’t have what we had. I’m just the biggest hypocrite. I can’t sense her, I can’t feel her, I can’t even feel the Traveler like I did. But you can and you have to take care of her, okay?” The words poured out of him without pause and he struggled to hold himself upright.

“I will,” Isaac said softly.

“Thank you,” Arthil repeated, over and over again.

When he couldn’t say it anymore, Isaac’s voice came again. “You’re welcome, Arthil.”


	12. Guard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you're confused by this chapter, please reference the piece called "Who Guards the Guardian" elsewhere in this series.

Isaac watched as Katya threw herself down on the ground and slumped against the remains of a charred pile of slag to pick at the remnants of her armor. “Isaac, I don’t know if I can keep doing this.” She was staring at Shry’s corpse several yards away. They were deep underground in the EDZ as he had transmatted them to a Fallen-ridden hole as soon as Shry’s eyes had started sparking. 

He manifested in front of her. “What is wrong?” he asked quickly.

“You mean aside from my friend hurling herself at any living thing until it's dead until either she dies and you don’t res her or she can’t keep functioning, whichever comes first?”

“Yes,” he said slowly. “Aside from that.”

“I can survive her. I can corral her and control some of her focus. I can keep my opinions of her more or less intact. But I can’t keep Astrophel intact like this.” The Ghost in question ducked away. “And I’m not convinced I’m doing a good job of surviving her. We have to find an actual solution to the problem, rather than a stopgap.”

Isaac felt himself several inches in the air when she used the word we. “I don’t know where to look,” he admitted.

“There are still some records on human psychology left. I’ve not heard of any other Guardians losing themselves like this so it’s probably not something to do with that system.”

“Unless no one has understood so far and labels them Dredgens or worse,” Astrophel muttered from somewhere behind Katya.

“Or that,” she sighed. “We’ll all do the research we can and see what we find. In the meantime, what about using transmat to control her?”

“What do you have in mind?” Isaac asked, unable to keep the fatigue from his voice.

“When you see the signs, you take her to a place without targets and don’t let her leave. Keep transmatting her back if you have to. The danger there is that she gets frustrated enough to attack you, so maybe that’s a bad plan. Can’t transmat her back to the ship; she’ll just tear the thing apart and launch herself into space. I guess we could go around each world she frequents and put holes with no escape underground around strategic locations. Oxygen is an issue but right now our solution is basically killing her anyway.” Katya ran a hand over her faceplate. 

“I’ll see if I can get access to some of Rasputin’s storage servers for the Golden Age data,” Isaac offered when Katya was silent a while. “And I’ll consider the holes in the ground.”

“Or,” Astrophel drawled the syllable. “We could talk to the woman in question and see if she has any opinions.” 

Isaac considered his options. “I need to talk to Arthil.”

Katya turned to look at him. “He doesn’t know about this.”

“Oh,” he said, hesitating. That would be a difficult conversation.

“You’d rather talk to Arthil about this than Shry?” Astrophel questioned, clearly disbelieving.

“What do you think happens when Shry talks about this, Astrophel?”

“She… cries?”

“Yes. And tries to harm herself.”

“Arthil, then,” Katya said. She started to push to her feet but her leg gave out on the way up. Astrophel appeared at her shoulder and Light coursed over her. Even then she stayed down, looking at Shry.

“He’s stronger than you think,” Isaac offered quietly.

“I hope so,” Kayta sighed. “We need all the help we can get.”


	13. Offer

“Let me see if I have this straight,” Arthil said slowly. “Sometimes Shry just… gets so angry that she goes temporarily insane and doesn’t know friend from foe.”

“Correct.” Isaac dearly hoped this wouldn’t lead to a breakdown.

“And this has happened more than once.”

“Yes.”

“And it happened… recently.”

Isaac held back for a beat before sighing. “Yesterday.”

Arthil’s voice dropped. “Because of me.”

“One reason of many,” Isaac quickly pointed out.

“Right.” 

“Katya-7 says that anger is always secondary. That there is always another emotion holding up the anger. I have considered her words at length and I find that I agree. In this case I believe that there are several emotions contributing to Shry’s anger. Grief, hurt, disappointment, probably more.” Isaac could hear his own exhaustion.

“Have you asked?”

“No. It is not safe to speak to her of the matter.”

“Not safe,” Arthil repeated blankly.

“If she is reminded of those times without sufficient distraction she will harm herself.”

“Okay. How have you handled this so far?” Relieved by how well Arthil was taking this, Isaac was quick to describe their process.

“Astrophel is struggling with Katya always being the one to handle it. I can understand why and I wish I could take the burden from them but I don’t know what else to do,” Isaac admitted as he concluded his explanation. “We don’t have many people we can rely on.”

“I have an idea,” Arthil admitted, his voice muffled.

“You-” A desperate hope rippled through him. “Please.”

“I don’t like it.” His voice was no longer muffled.

“You don’t- Arthil, please.”

“Pin her.”

“What?”

“You have full mastery over every atom in her body. If you don’t want her to move, she can’t move.” Even to his own ears his voice sounded dead. “Pin her in place, don’t let her have her Light. Wait her out.” Isaac heard a sound somewhere between a wheeze and a whimper and took a moment to realize the sound was coming from himself. “There isn’t a better solution outside of killing her the moment she starts to rage and that only presses pause. As soon as she’s revived she’ll be right back to raging. She has to get through the emotion for the rage to stop. I don’t think she’s been able to get all the way through it yet; her body gives up before she gets there.”

“So this is… unfinished business,” Isaac said slowly, voice wavering. Anything to avoid imagining the experience.

“Yeah. Isaac, I’m so sorry.”

“This isn’t your doing,” Isaac almost snapped, exasperated.

“I’m not apologizing. I’m expressing sympathy. I don’t think I could do this and I’m asking you to do it anyway.” Isaac had no reply. “You… if it happens again soon and we don’t have a better solution by then and you have to pin her? Call me. I’ll come, okay? You don’t have to be alone with this.” A beat. “If… you want, of course.”

“I do want.” Speaking felt like breaking. “Thank you, Arthil.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is one of my favorites so far.


	14. Projects

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Extra update brought to you by my gluttony.

“You’re getting it!” Ana cheered as Arthil finally managed a decent grouping on the target. At Katya’s request she had begun teaching him basic firearms.

“I think I may stick with shotguns,” he mused. “Sidearms seem… Well, they don’t seem to pack enough punch.”

“We’ll try Hand Cannons tomorrow then,” Ana said, unperturbed. 

Arthil groaned to tease her, actually pleased. “Slave driver.”

“Yup! How are your interface experiments going?”

Arthil had spent much of his free time on Mars trying to determine a way to access electronics as he had as a Ghost. “Slow. I believe I have determined a way to wire myself into a server or perhaps even a network but it’s certainly not ideal.”

She nodded. “Let me know if you want to ping Rasputin for ideas. Oh, and Isaac has a shell with a really unique wireless interfacing system.”

“He does?” Arthil would much rather talk to Isaac than Rasputin. 

“Yeah, it- oh.” Ana’s lips twisted and she sighed. “It’s a sort of byproduct of the whole uh… attempt to get you back.”

He blinked at her. “How in the-”

“Don’t ask me!” She held up her hands defensively, laughing. “I still don’t really know what they did to cause that explosion. All I know is it scared Eris.”

“Scared Eris,” he repeated slowly. “Doesn’t sound like Shry’s changed all that much, actually.”

Ana shrugged. “I wouldn’t know about that. Lots of Guardians seem to think that sort of thing is normal from Shry though. Zavala sure does.”

Arthil snorted. “Shry’s disliked Zavala since the first time she laid eyes on him.”

“O-oh,” Ana hummed. “I think I’ll stay out of that one. I’m going to go work on the lost servers some more. Need anything?”

“No, thank you.”

“Sure thing!” Ana strode away just as Jinju appeared in front of Arthil.

“Call for you,” she said simply before vanishing.

Arthil hurried to his room and connected to his terminal. “I’m here!”

“This is Isaac.”

“Hello. What’s going on?”

“We’re currently in the Tangled Shore gathering resources for the- Has anyone told you about Shry’s project for Failsafe?”

“Astrophel, yeah. How did you convince Shry to agree to a crew-sized vessel?”

“I didn’t. A young Hunter named Silla did.”

“Oh, right. Astrophel mentioned her. Huh. Neat. So you’re getting materials for the ship?”

“We are, yes. I wondered if you’d like to be involved in the project.”

“Gathering materials?”

“The ship in general.”

“Oh,” Arthil pulled at his knuckle. “Sure.”

“Excellent,” Isaac sounded so pleased that Arthil felt a frisson of pride. “I think you’ll be very helpful with the Massive Transmat system. Your perspective on the Orbital Grid and transmat systems is unique.”

“Massive Transmat,” Arthil mouthed the words carefully. “I’m already interested.”

“Ana’s heading up that part of the project. Jinju has the data from our most recent tests.”

Arthil immediately began combing through the servers he had access to for the relevant data. “If we can get an actual massive transmat system working it could save a lot of lives,” he mused.

“And a great deal of time and energy.”

“Neat!” Arthil cried, finding Jinju’s recordings and Ana’s simulations. “Anything else I should take a look at while I’m in here?”

“Jinju keeps meticulous records of our discussions of the various projects. Failsafe has the masters if you want the most up to date data.”

Scanning through Jinju’s records, Arthil popped into the budgeting and materials files. “Mm. I think I can fine tune some of the funding solutions if I can get a good look at the City’s economy. I used to spend a lot of time in the Financial District offices.”

“That would be very helpful,” Isaac said. 

“Okay. I’ll talk to Ana and review the finances. And… I guess let Failsafe know I exist again.”

Isaac was quiet a beat. “We have a number of jumpships in storage that we acquired purely to study their propulsion systems. Would you like one so you can move freely to visit those you wish to?”

Arthil gaped at his terminal. “I- You know, I’m not sure I can fly one with hands.”

“You manipulate the controls rather than issuing system commands,” Isaac explained, laughter in his voice. Arthil decided he liked that tone of voice much better than the exhaustion.

“Right, sure, but I don’t think you understand how confusing fingers are. They get tangled up!”

“I’m sure that will pass with practice,” Isaac noted, tone still lighter than it had been in weeks. 

“I would love to have a ship,” Arthil admitted. 

“I’ll send the transmat codes to Astrophel and ask him to bring it to you the next time they head your way.” Isaac was audibly pleased.

“Thank you. I hadn’t really thought about just… doing things.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, like a person I guess. I was still thinking like a Ghost, waiting for someone to tell me what to do or who to look for.”

“Shry has repeatedly said that Ghosts are people,” Isaac noted, voice bland.

Arthil barked a sheepish laugh. “Fair, yeah. Sorry.”

“No need. I don’t prefer the label.”

Snickering, Arthil resettled in his chair. “Hey, Ana said something about you having a really unique interface system in your shell? Can you tell me about it? I’m trying to figure out a way to interface with systems and networks like a Ghost again.”

“Certainly,” Isaac agreed and did so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a glutton for these two.


	15. Gift

Arthil knew he was wobbling as he walked toward the landing zone but he couldn’t bring himself to slow down. Astrophel had just informed him that they’d arrived with the ship Isaac had sent and something in his old friend’s voice clued him in that it wasn’t what he expected. It was all he could do to keep his fingers out of his mouth.

On the landing zone sat The Temerity, the Vimana-S class jumpship that Katya and Astrophel used now. Quite a change from The Lancelot, a Minerva class jumpship they’d used last he remembered. Behind it on the landing pad was another ship and Arthil found himself slowing to a stop to stare at it.

He knew simply from looking at it that it was Awoken-made, but he’d never seen the like before. It seemed to be made entirely of curves. Pushing himself to keep walking, he could see as he got closer that it had a similar base design to a typical Vor Pyl model. Katya emerged from the Temerity and joined him in observing the new vessel.

“Pallas Galliot,” she said eventually. “Reefcraft.”

Arthil nodded slowly. “I’ve not seen one before.”

“Awoken controls are a bit different from standard Terran systems but according to some they’re far more intuitive,” she offered.

“Still going to want you to go with me the first several times I fly. I can’t hold it together with Light anymore.”

Katya rested a hand on his shoulder before moving toward the ship. “Come take a look.”

Arthil followed her up the gangplank and paused on the threshold, looking around. He had expected typical Awoken aesthetic inside the ship as well but this was something else entirely. The interior was refitted with actual wood panels with a finish in dark cherry-brown. The chairs were upholstered with something that looked like leather. There was a long bench on one side clearly intended to double as a bed that was visibly soft. 

He turned to find Katya and Astrophel watching him. “No way Shry did this,” he gestured at the paneling. “She likes Awoken-style stuff.” Astrophel huffed and turned to examine the paneling more closely. Arthil didn’t add that the storage systems in the ship had all been adapted to Shry’s preferred methods or that it had taken him ages to convince her that she didn’t have to use a fold out cot to sleep on, that a bench was more useful than the empty space. 

He stepped to the pilot’s chair, noting the thick, woven mats on the floor. He looked around at the controls as he lowered himself into the chair and let the surreal nature of the moment wash over him. 

“Leave them attached,” Katya’s voice was quiet at his side as she pulled his hands apart. He’d been pulling at his knuckles again.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“Want to give her a try now or-” she let the options hang over them.

“Can I have a minute?” Wordlessly, she nodded and rested a hand on his shoulder again before leading Astrophel from the ship.

Arthil stared at the control board in front of him and took the time to identify what each piece did. When he was done, he rose and ran his hand over the drawers and cupboards. When he opened the top drawer on the rack closest to the gangplank he found a collection of cleaning materials exactly as he expected them. When he went through the under-bench storage he found the bedding all arranged exactly as he would have done it. 

What must it be like to step into another’s place as Isaac had? Had he resented the shape Arthil had left? Had Shry clung to these familiar methods or had Isaac adopted them to suit her?

He returned to the pilot’s chair and noticed something on the seat for the first time. It was a chit describing a glimmer deposit to an account in his name. Fingering the edges of the card he powered up the ship’s internal servers and looked for its records. Sure enough, the paneling was all new installation as of a few days ago. There were no records of damage to the interior walls of the ship that needed to be covered. 

Isaac. What was the Ghost trying to do here? Why send him a ship at all, let alone redo the interior, fill it with supplies and creature comforts, and include more than enough money to maintain the ship for some time? 

Frowning, Arthil booted up the ship’s comms and initiated a call.

“Hello,” Isaac’s voice answered after a few minutes. “I take it everyone arrived safely.”

“Yeah, they’re outside,” Arthil said, toying with the chit.

“Everything satisfactory?” Isaac sounded calm, as if this was a perfectly normal occurrence. 

“Satisfactory,” Arthil scoffed. “Isaac, this is a lot.”

A beat. “A lot? I don’t understand.”

“Super fancy ship, interior retrofit, fully kitted out, furnished, and a whole pile of glimmer. A lot.”

“Ah,” Isaac sighed. “I have been told I have a habit of going overboard.”

“You think?” Arthil muttered. “I mean, I’m not unhappy about it really, just confused I guess. I thought we were trying to fund a really, really big spaceship.” 

“The accounts for Failsafe are entirely independent of all personnel accounts,” Isaac noted. “She insisted.”

“Well sure, but… I don’t understand.”

Isaac took a moment to answer. “I have a… It calms me to see to people’s needs,” he said carefully. “I have been unable to assess your needs up to this point so I extrapolated as I could. It would be fair to say that this was more about making myself feel better than it was about pleasing you.”

Arthil stared at the control board in front of him. “Okay,” he managed. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome,” Isaac said, warmly. “Have you named the ship?”

“I- No. It doesn’t have one?”

“No. Shry still doesn’t name her vehicles.”

“I’ll let you know what I come up with.”

“I look forward to it.” 

Arthil wondered at how genuine Isaac sounded. Then again, Shry was in a bad place and his only company right now. He ran a hand over his face plate. “Any tips on how to fly it?”

“Slower than Shry,” was Isaac’s wry reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually managed to complete the fic tonight so prepare for lots of chapters.


	16. Pin

Isaac was frozen, unable to look away from Shry where she stood. She was pinned. They had gone deep into the Blackened Forest and she had slowly lost coherence but would not stop walking. She had led him all the way to the Shard of the Traveler. There she had shouted as if at the Traveler for some time, expressing her discontent. She had lost control of her Light very rapidly and he had stepped in as Arthil had suggested, holding her in place, shutting down her Light entirely.

Shry raged, screaming wordlessly and strained against his control. It was such a twisted parody of what they did together in their more intimate moments that he wished he had the capacity to vomit. 

He heard the sounds of a jumpship descending not far away but could not bring himself to leave her side. Shortly Arthil strode into the clearing, hand cannon in one hand and a floodlight in the other. He carefully did not look at Shry. Isaac realized he had failed to notice night falling.

“Hey,” Arthil said quietly under her screams, sitting down on the ground.

“Hello,” Isaac said, mechanically.

“Right,” the EXO breathed. “Tell me what happened?” Instead, Isaac played back the recording of Shry’s incoherent ranting at the Traveler. Arthil was still a long time after the recording ended. Finally he turned and looked at Shry where she stood against her will. The plates of his face drew together and he began worrying at his hands. Isaac did not know when he had stowed the gun or put down the light. 

“Hey, Isaac?” He did not know how much time had passed.

“Yes?”

“Can I touch you?”

“If you wish.”

Arthil’s hands wrapped carefully around Isaac’s shell and drew him to his chest. “This is awful.”

“Yes.”

They waited together for hours while Shry roared. When he saw that there were tears streaming down her cheeks, Isaac did nothing. When he sensed that she had ruptured her voice box with her screaming he healed it but did not release her. When he felt her rage sharpen from a generalized fury to something cognizant and aware, he did nothing. When she turned her entire focus upon him and began cursing his name, he did nothing.

Arthil, however, stood and pulled Isaac with him. “We’re not listening to this,” he said, turning to walk away. 

“I will not leave her unprotected,” Isaac insisted, trying to draw away from Arthil’s hands. 

Arthil sighed. “Where’s Katya?” 

“Titan.”

“Then make her stop.”

“What?” Isaac finally turned to face Arthil.

“Stop letting her make sounds. I’m not sure why you’re doing it in the first place outside of maybe masochism or misplaced guilt. That’s not Shry. That’s an imposter in her body. You are keeping her body safe until Shry can come back to it. You are not holding Shry prisoner.”

Isaac looked at Arthil, really seeing him for the first time since he’d become an EXO. His knees were unsteady. The plates of his fingers were scraped and damaged already. His plating was all finished with white and the light emanating from within him was the same red-orange as Rasputin’s core. Too-big clothing hung loosely from his frame, held together by the belt at his waist.

“Shry does not think about you like that thing inside her does,” Arthil continued. “She wouldn’t want you to suffer through this.”

Finally, finally the screaming ceased. And in the silence they heard the sound of a Wire Rifle charging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No cliffhangers for you!


	17. Danger

“Get down!” Isaac called, pushing his meager weight against Arthil’s frame.

“Don’t turn her loose,” Arthil called even as the Wire Rifle shot impacted the ground next to him. Arthil dropped even as he reached unsteadily for the hand cannon on his belt. “She’s still watching you, not them.”

“See if you can keep her between you and them,” Isaac was grim. “How do you feel about heavy ordinance?” More Fallen emerged from cover.

“Rocket launcher,” Arthil said immediately, scrambling behind Shry and trying to stay pragmatic about it. He fired three times into the first Fallen he saw before ducking behind her again; she was still staring at Isaac with fury in her eyes. A rocket launcher materialized in front of him and he dropped the hand cannon to pluck the larger weapon from the air. From around Shry’s other side he fired at the largest grouping of Fallen he could see. Two rockets jolted from the launcher and obliterated the group. “Nice,” he muttered, ducking low to reload.

“Fireteam inbound,” Isaac announced. “ETA two minutes.” 

“Great,” Arthil managed. “That’s not long.” He fired the rocket launcher again. As he ducked behind Shry and several shots impacted around them, he could hear several of the arc shots hit Shry. He knew that somewhere inside himself he was screaming at letting Shry get hurt in his place. He knew that’s what he’d done the entire time he’d been her Ghost: send her into the line of fire while he was safe. This wasn’t truly all that different.

“Incoming Dreg on her right,” Isaac announced. 

“Um,” he nearly scoured the ground for the hand cannon. “Sidearm,” he said instead. The gun formed in front of the hand he lifted away from the rocket launcher and he snatched it. Turning to Shry’s right and firing repeatedly into the Dreg before it could get closer. Supporting the rocket launcher with his left hand, Arthil kept the pistol loosely in his right and used his pinky finger to pull the trigger on the rocket launcher when he aimed for another grouping.

It went on like that for what seemed like ages. Any time he ran out of ammo he simply dropped the weapon and Isaac was already forming another in his hands, the weapons at his feet disappearing so they wouldn’t trip him. Still Shry only seemed aware of Isaac. To be fair to her, Arthil rather thought he would rather only pay attention to Isaac but he didn’t have the same luxury just now.

“Three Dregs on the back left,” Isaac called. “ETA thirty seconds.”

He turned, and opened fire. He dropped two of the Dregs with the sidearm but the third was upon him before he could do anything. He dropped the rocket launcher entirely, bringing his arms up in front of himself even as the Dreg tackled him into the ground. The Dreg had the advantages of being on top, having a knife, and experience in a bipedal body. 

Time seemed both slow and fast. Specifically, the Dreg seemed very fast and everything else seemed very slow. Arthil could hear Isaac’s voice though not his words, he could feel the corrupted Light from the Shard of the Traveler, he could hear the racket of the rest of the Fallen, he could hear the approach of jumpships. 

The knife in the Dreg’s hands flashed with sparkling arc energy as it came down toward his face, just barely he managed to bat the arm away. Again it came and again he managed to deflect it but not as far. The blade connected with something in his right shoulder causing his arm to malfunction and the gun to fall from his hand. 

He had known for years that pain existed. He had even experienced some forms of pain. But this was something altogether new and different and it seared through him with a strange sort of chill that left him gasping, entirely unable to cry out as he had expected to do.

Something, somehow, took the Dreg away, but Arthil found that he could not move. He lay there, useless, gasping for air he didn’t need with his eyes locked upon the curve of the Shard above him.


	18. Chat

Isaac watched, anxious, as the EXO Hunter crouched next to Arthil. “Hey,” they said quietly. “I’m gonna see if I can patch up your shoulder, okay?” Arthil’s head turned slightly toward the sound. “I’m gonna touch you now and it will hurt but the pain should fade after that.” They ran a sensation-numbing device over his shoulder and then began reconnecting wires and plates. “That ought to do,” they said eventually. “You hearing any of this?”

“Thank you.” Arthil’s voice sounded distant.

“No problem. Want help sitting up? The arm should come back on in a few minutes.” When Arthil nodded, the Hunter got an arm under him and maneuvered him into a sitting position. 

“Isaac?” 

“Here,” Isaac darted to Arthil’s side.

“Good,” Arthil sighed, slumping. “Okay.”

“Oh goody,” Silla’s voice came from behind them and she strode into view. “You’re up and talking. Rathna?”

“His arm should resume normal function soon,” the Hunter answered.

“That’s good.” She dropped to a knee in front of him and a Ghost appeared at her shoulder. “I’m Silla Faer.” Isaac felt himself fall an inch in the air. He’d never learned her last name before. “This is Bee. That’s Rathna-8 next to you; they never introduce themself. Pryderi’s over there somewhere,” she waved to one side.

“Oh, uh. I’m Arthil… Two, I think.” He still sounded distant but he was keeping up with the conversation. 

Silla’s head tilted as she considered him, a smile on her face. “Good to meet you. Glad you made it out okay. Not often we get word of folks without Light out this way, let alone helping with Thanatonautics.”

“Thanatonautics,” Arthil repeated slowly, visibly confused. 

“That’s what Guardians call the style of research this ritual is,” Isaac interjected quickly. He could only hope that Arthil caught on to the ruse. 

Arthil turned to him. “Oh. I didn’t know it had a name,” he said slowly before turning back to Silla. “Anyway, thanks for coming.”

“Sure!” Silla said. “We work out of the Farm most all the time so it wasn’t far at all. Glad we could come so fast. Pryderi’s setting up barricades so we can hold the area until she finishes up whatever is cooking up in her head.” Rathna rose and walked in the direction Silla had indicated for Pryderi.

“I’m sure things will be much safer that way,” Arthil said and Isaac worked not to flinch. He should have accounted for Arthil’s safety when he called for him.

“Oh definitely. And, hey, Ratha uses they/them pronouns, yeah?”

“Got it,” Arthil nodded.

Silla turned and looked after Rathna. When they were a fair distance away she turned back to Arthil and Isaac and grinned, shark-like. “Am I getting the truth from either of you or will I have to see if I can’t drag it out of Shry later?”

Arthil stiffened but Isaac beat him to the answer. “That will be up to her.”

“Fair enough,” she shrugged before eyeing Arthil. “Haven’t I heard the name Arthil somewhere?”

“If you have it would be from Astrophel,” Isaac noted. “They’ve been friends since before he found Katya.”

“Huh, okay.” She settled onto the ground. “So, this isn’t exactly what I expected when I found you a camp.”

“Nor I,” Isaac sighed, as Arthil looked between them. “Few plans survive exposure to Shry.”

“True,” he nodded.

Silla laughed. “I don’t know, I think it’s more that Shry survives the plans.”

Isaac let his shell sink. “That is also true,” he admitted, the stress of the entire series of events catching up to him.

“Hey,” Arthil reached up and pulled Isaac to him. “It’s not your fault.”

“My plan,” Isaac pointed out. “And not only did Shry need to survive it but so did you. She’s going to be furious.”

“Probably not with you,” Arthil countered.

“Nah, she’s the I’m-the-only-one-who-gets-to-have-the-blame sort.” Silla seemed too cheerful for the situation, Isaac thought.

“You know her that well?” Arthil asked, and Isaac could hear something of an edge to the words.

“Not so much,” Silla shrugged. “Just what I’ve seen. And she seems the sort to want to keep all the blame. Lets her feel more in control if it’s her fault.”

“Relax, Arthil,” Isaac said, trying defuse the defensiveness in Arthil’s posture. “Silla’s a friend.” The EXO muttered something inaudible but subsided. “Though I admit, I didn’t know you were a Faer, Silla.”

The woman lit up, beaming. “Yeah! You know my dad?”

Isaac’s mind stuttered to a halt. “Dad? Do you mean Vynn?”

“Yup!”

“Shry and I consider him and Bluejay dear friends,” he answered automatically. He decided he now understood the phrase “feeling faint.”

“I didn’t know Guardians have kids,” Arthil said.

“Not usually. Dad adopted me about a week after Bee brought me in.” Silla was visibly proud. “It’s been great. I think more Guardians should do it. It was really helpful to me to have a place, you know? Astrophel was super helpful and kind and Katya was so patient with me but to have a home to go back to and someone to talk to and spend time with and it not be about the Vanguard was awesome.”

“That,” Arthil hesitated. “Do Guardians not have that?” Isaac was grateful he was willing to maintain the ruse.

“No,” Isaac said quietly. “Not until they find a community or a fireteam.”

“But family is immediate,” Silla said, nodding. “I tried to talk Zavala into it once but, well. Dad’s reputation doesn’t really help me there.”

“Why’s that?”

“Dad’s response to Zavala is to make fart noises with his hands.”

Arthil stared at her. “The Commander of the Vanguard.”

“Yeah. So you can see why he wasn’t keen on listening to me.”

“No, but I can see why Shry likes him.”


	19. Friends

When Shry finally began to show signs of returning to herself it was two days later. Silla and her fireteam were all sitting on the roof of Rathna’s Odyssey class jumpship about a hundred yards away. Shry was ashen and there were deep, dark circles under her eyes. She no longer seemed to be straining in place and so Arthil stood nearby as Isaac released his hold of her head. It immediately fell forward and she didn’t seem inclined to lift it.

“Shry,” Isaac called softly.

“Here.” Her voice sounded like gravel on glass, as if Isaac had not healed her throat from all her screaming. “Where?”

“Shard of the Traveler,” he explained. “If I release you, what will you do?”

“Fall over,” she sighed, not looking up.

With a look to Isaac for confirmation, Arthil moved to her side and caught her when she sagged. Cautiously, ever aware of his clumsiness, he worked to scoop her up into his arms. She didn’t seem to be aware of him, or anything for that matter. He carried her into his ship and lowered her onto the cot. Once Isaac was settled against her shoulder, he turned and walked out to speak with Silla and her fireteam.

“All done?” Silla called, dropping from the ship.

“Yes, thank you all so much,” Arthil agreed.

Pryderi, an Awoken Titan, waved and he and Rathna both disappeared into the ship which shortly lifted away. “Listen,” Silla began when the roar died down. “I’m still new and all, but this… this wasn’t Thanatonautics and this isn’t a good place for non-Guardians. Are they… forcing you to-”

“No!” Arthil protested quickly. “I wanted to be here. I asked. We didn’t,” he sighed. “No one expected it to take this long, I think.”

“Okay,” she looked him up and down. “Stay safe, yeah? Isaac needs all the friends he can get.”

“Sure, you too,” Arthil said automatically, watching as she transmatted into her ship and flew away. Friends? He and Isaac? Once he got past his initial surprise it was a startlingly comfortable idea. He was perfectly certain he preferred that to rivals.

Shry was asleep by the time he returned and Isaac gave him the coordinates for their camp. Arthil was comfortable flying the ship until it came time to land in a small clearing with tight tree cover. “Um, Isaac? Little help?”

Isaac appeared at his shoulder. “Yes?”

“I don’t know if I can land this here,” Arthil admitted sheepishly.

“Rotate negative fifty-seven degrees along the x-axis. Dip the left wing under the foiliage and then shift the ship to the tree line while maintaining that angle. The rest will follow.”

“Right,” Arthil rotated the ship and hesitated. “I can see it just fine, but my hands-”

“Are more than adequate hands-” Isaac interrupted almost before Arthil could finish the word. “You can do this.”

Arthil stared at him. Friends? Friends. He turned to give it a go. In the end, he only scraped the palting in three places and he was pretty sure that it had done more damage to the trees than the ship. “Okay, now what?”

Isaac directed him to carry Shry from the ship to their shelter. He carefully situated her on the sleeping mat and then turned to survey the camp. The shelter was a small lean-to with the sleeping mat, blankets, a small pile of rumpled clothes, and a pair of boots inside. There was a small fire pit, a log bench, and a decent collection of firewood to one side. 

“So,” he began, drawing out the vowel. “Should I go?” 

Isaac considered for a long moment before responding. “I would prefer not to be alone.” The Ghost sounded exhausted and worn. Arthil could relate.

“Kay,” Arthil sat on the bench. “Prefer quiet or talking?”

“I don’t know,” Isaac admitted slowly.

“Kay,” he said again. “Can I have my gun, please?”

“Of course.”

The hand cannon appeared on the bench beside him and Arthil began disassembling it so he could clean it by hand, humming quietly. Honestly, he was intensely relieved that Isaac had allowed him to stay. He did not relish the idea of flying back to Mars or anywhere else and having the time and quiet to really be alone with what he’d seen and experienced. This? This was much better.


	20. Finally

Shry woke slowly, sounds and smells filtering in and out of her senses: gun oil, fire smoke, pine, “hey,” the cracking of wood, “sure,” the scrape of metal on metal, “let me,” an odd sort of tapping sound. Her eyes opened slowly with the “let me” echoing in her head. Arthil? Shry sat up carefully, taking mental inventory of her body to find everything in working order. 

“Isaac?” She stretched in place. She was in the camp, and everything seemed to be as it should be save that she couldn’t see Isaac. 

Isaac materialized at her side, immediately scanning her. After a moment he pressed his shell to her chest. Her hands came up automatically to cup his shell. “What happened?” she asked quietly.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” His voice was muffled by her shirt.

She considered. “We were walking in the Blackened Forest, I think.”

“Yes,” Isaac agreed. “You became distraught,” he said slowly. “Lost yourself.”

She blanched. “Here? On Earth? That’s-”

“Shry,” Isaac’s authoritative voice emerged. “It is fine. Nothing bad happened this time.”

“What do you mean?” she asked slowly, breathing too fast. 

“I-” he drifted back so he could look at her. “I took your Light.”

She blinked, uncomprehending. “You,” then she understood. Slumping, she ran a hand through her hair. “Isaac, you’re brilliant.”

“It wasn’t my idea,” he countered. “You are not-”

“No, Isaac. Fuck. That’s the best solution I’ve heard.”

“There were some complications,” he admitted.

“Like?”

“Witnesses. For the most part they accepted it being an unusual Thanatonautics experiment.”

“For the most part?” she asked, still a bit high with relief.

“Silla will have questions,” he sighed.

“Ah.” Not the best, but it could be much worse.

“Did you know she’s Vynn’s daughter?” While Shry was still trying to compute the idea of Vynn having a child, let alone the frightening amount of sense Silla made as that child, there was movement coming toward the camp. An EXO stomped into the clearing. 

“Isaac, what- Oh.”

Arthil was standing at the edge of the clearing. Arthil was looking for Isaac. Arthil was an EXO wearing clothes that didn’t fit and a gun at his side.

“Arthil?” She watched as he walked to the log bench and sat down. 

“Hey, Shry,” he said, gently. Arthil’s voice emerging from an EXO system was less smooth, a hint of rasp in his tone. Even so, the sound was a balm to her soul. “Feeling better?” She nodded without even considering his question, just watching him. 

“Arthil came so that I would not be alone,” Isaac’s voice at her side caught her attention but it wasn’t until the words processed that she tore herself away from Arthil to wrap Isaac in her hands, curling around him with her body. 

“Isaac,” she breathed. “I-”

“Hush,” he said tenderly. “I asked for this, if you recall. I knew what I was doing.”

She sniffed, unsurprised to find tears on her face. “Still. I wish…”

“I know, love.” 

Shry shuddered, gasping. She felt Isaac shift in her grasp so she loosened her hold but remained bowed, one hand rising to grip the hair at the base of her neck. Metal fingers gently tugged at hers until she released her hair and she felt Arthil slowly settle at her side. 

“We’ve got this,” Arthil said quietly.

And Shry? Shry shattered. But for once, it felt like breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _fin_
> 
> There will be a sequel. :)


End file.
